


Sweet Lies and Bitter Truths

by Dame_Dulces



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Phantom Thief AU, Sexuality Crisis, blood/injury in chapter 3, gun violence in chapter 3, knife threat in chapter 4, saimami honorable mention, talent swap AU, whump in chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24993694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dame_Dulces/pseuds/Dame_Dulces
Summary: The infamous phantom thief Saihara Shuichi has finally been captured by the ultimate detective, Ouma Kokichi. But his rival seems to have his own plans for the sullen vigilante.
Relationships: Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 271





	1. First capture.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This will be a short fic with god only knows how many chapters, I'm assuming 4 or 5. It's very much a work in progress, including the title lolol, but it's an idea I've had for over a year and I wanted to get it out so that it wouldn't haunt me forever. Not sure when there will be updates, but I'll work hard to keep up on things! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy what I have so far!

As Saihara struggled to break free from his bonds, he wondered why things had gone so wrong.

Everything had gone according to plan, and the plan itself was flawless. All they had wanted to do was steal an ancient Igbo artifact from the National History Museum and return it to the elders, who were its rightful owners. A gig that was loads easier than the last caper they’d done at the Louvre last month. He had spent hours planning out the logistics with the other members of DICE, mapping out their various escape plans and exit routes in case things went south. Which they rarely did, until now. Looking back, there was no way even a seasoned phantom thief like him could have seen this coming.

His getaway would’ve been clean if he hadn’t taken a wrong turn in the sewers. He had a momentary lapse of judgement when the security officers followed him down the sewage drain and had taken off in the opposite direction he was supposed to have gone. Once he realized his rookie mistake, it was too late. He’d stepped into a booby trap laid by one of the cops and found himself pinned against the wall with a sticky net made of a strange fibrous rope material, one his watch laser couldn’t cut through. Not that he could've used it anyway, with his hands pinned above his head. There was no way to contact the rest of his crew in this position. He was at the mercy of whoever laid this trap.

He was fucked. Royally fucked.

He hung there in the dark, replaying the scene over and over again and contemplating spending the rest of his life in Alcatraz, or Rikers, or somewhere worse. He thought of Akamatsu and was filled with regret. He thought of Momota and Harukawa and wondered if they’d be okay with their leader out of commission. Although he was only there alone for a few minutes, it was torturous nonetheless.

Eventually, he heard small footsteps approaching and saw a flickering light emerge from the tunnel he came in from. He looked up, his golden hazel eyes falling on the man that was now standing before him. 

A man of small stature gazed at him expectantly with wide, childlike eyes as he placed the flashlight he held on the floor in front of him, its light shining directly on Saihara. His hair was dyed plum purple and hung over his head like a mop, as if he didn’t care to brush or style it. He couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, but he carried himself with the confidence of someone who was 6’4” and a star athelete. He grinned at him with a dastardly expression, both victorious yet curious in nature. He was unlike anyone the thief had seen before, both enticing yet terrifying.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I’ve managed to capture the infamous Phantom Thief.”

Saihara said nothing, unwilling to speak.

“I gotta say, I’m a little disappointed,” The man moved closer, making the tied man even more nervous. “I was expecting more of a challenge. After all, I flew all the way from Tokyo just to meet you.”

He was so close to his face, he could smell the sickly-sweet soda on his breath. Saihara scrunched up his nose, recoiling as much as he could with what little wiggle room he had.

“What happened, Mr. Thief? Are you off your A-game today?”

“Shove off," he finally coughed out.

“Touchy, touchy. Don’t be such a poor sport. You gave it your all, didn’t you? You should be proud that you made it this far without getting caught. I’m not sure I would have, if I was in your ugly shoes.”

That last comment made Saihara glance down at his feet, then back up once he realized they’d broken eye contact. He glared at the smaller man, unwilling to show any sign of submission or defeat despite his current position.

“Whatever. Just call in your reinforcements already. You caught me.”

“There’s plenty of time for that. I wanted to get you alone.”

“Wh… what?!”

The plum-haired man turned around, pacing around the dimly lit corridor as he began his rant.

“Being the ultimate detective gets a bit boring, you know. At this point I could arrest criminals in my sleep. It’s not often that I get a real challenge anymore. Honestly, I should just retire, but that sounds boring too…”

Saihara was beyond confused. What the hell was he babbling on about?

“I don’t get it. Why aren’t you calling for backup?”

The man suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to face his captive. His face was unreadable; there wasn’t a trace of emotion to be seen. Even Saihara, who prided himself on his mastery of this skill, couldn’t see through the mask he wore.

“Because I think you can do better, Saihara Shuichi.”

Hearing his name spoken aloud in an unfamiliar voice made his heart drop to his stomach.

It had been almost a decade since anyone else besides the other members of DICE had called him by his birth name. In fact, there weren’t many people alive who even knew it. He’d burned the only copy of his birth certificate years ago when he dedicated himself to a life of crime, and no one from his past had lived long enough to reveal his true identity.

Who the hell was this man, and how did he know so much about him?

“How…?!”

“They don’t call me the ultimate detective for nothing, ya know,” his captor said with a wink. “I’m sure there’s a reason they call you the ultimate supreme leader, as well.”

The man dropped a file in front of him. The documents sprawled out across the floor. Saihara could make out a few blurry photos of himself, along with news articles about his escapades. His jaw nearly dropped when he saw what he believed to be a copy of the document he’d burnt with his own two hands.

“They say you reside in the shadows, carrying out a silent rebellion against the world’s most vile sinners. You started out with small petty thefts. Returning lost wages to marginalized workers and stolen fundraiser money back to the honest people who donated to just causes. You worked your way up from the streets, and now your main focus is returning precious items to communities who had been pillaged by colonizers.”

Saihara could have been knocked over with a feather. This strange man somehow knew his entire life story; it was like a parent re-reading a familiar bedtime story to their child. It shook him to his very core.

“The question is… why? Why not sell your gains for profit? You would be ridiculously rich by now if you had. I don’t get why you go to such lengths only to give them away in the end.”

Saihara sighed in his bonds. It was all over, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“It doesn’t matter… after this, we won’t be able to finish our work.”

The man cocked his head to one side, his messy hair falling over the left side of his face.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re arresting me. I’m going to jail.”

“Am I? Are you?”

Saihara stared at the man with furrowed brows. What exactly was he planning to do with him…?

“Calling it quits already would be so boring,” he approached him slowly, sizing him up like he was a piece of steak sizzling on the grill. It made Saihara squirm in place. He didn’t like being watched like some sort of specimen.

“I did just get here, after all. It would be a waste if I had to go back to Japan so soon.”

He reached out his hand and took Saihara’s chin in his grasp. The thief turned his head away, but the man just grabbed it again. He was forced to look in his eyes, which were now filled with an ominous mischief that made his stomach do flips.

“Besides, I think we can have a lot of fun together, if we do this right.”

Saihara struggled more, but there wasn’t really anywhere he could go with the man holding his jaw like this. He felt his brush his thumb across his bottom lip and felt the urge to bite him, but held back in fear of retaliation. He wasn’t really in the position to fight, anyway. He knew how to pick and choose his battles.

“They never said how cute you were,” the man half-whispered. He dragged his fingers down the side of his neck, causing Saihara to tense up at the sensation. A guttural sound emerged in his throat, but he choked it down before the man could hear.

“S… stop…” he spat out as the detective trailed his hand down his body, fumbling across every sensitive spot as if he knew which buttons to press. It was unbearable in its own way, and yet… his touch was gentle, and cautious. He felt himself flinch when his fingers ran down his ribs, and his stomach jolted when his nails brushed against it. If only there was some slack in these ropes… being unable to move made the situation even more humiliating.

“A bit sensitive, non?” A small smirk grew on the detective’s face, as if to rub salt in the wound.

“Why… why are you… - ah! - ...doing this?”

“‘Cause it’s fun. And ‘cause you’re cute.”

The compliment made Saihara’s cheeks flush for a second time. This man was unlike any detective he’d ever met. Usually he hated every cop he crossed paths with, but this guy… he was something else. And it frightened him beyond words.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“Whatever you want me to.”

“Wha! What!?”

“Just kidding. I’m a bit of a tease, which I’m sure you’ll get used to in time.”

The man reached back up and brushed a lock of hair out of Saihara’s eyes, one that had been bugging him the entire time he’d been tied, and he kicked himself for feeling grateful. An amalgamation of emotions filled him to the brim. This man… his actions so far had resembled those of a tender lover, yet there was something unsettling about the way he moved and spoke. He found himself completely entranced by this stranger, caught between wanting to know him more and wanting to get as far away from him as he could. He wasn’t sure if either would be possible at this point, but…

“Oh, you should know something else about me.”

The man leaned in so close Saihara half expected a kiss. He stopped right before their lips could touch and said something that sent chills down his spine with a devious smile that could only be described as completely evil.

“I’m a liar. And you should never believe liars.”

The phantom thief gulped, feeling goosebumps prickle through his skin and cold sweat roll down his back. He stood there for several long moments, as if waiting for Saihara to speak up. 

“Anyway, I know you can do better!” Again, an abrupt change of expression that threw the captive thief through a loop. He exhaled, letting himself relax as the stranger sauntered away. 

“Next time, I want you to give it your all. I’ll set a nice trap, and it’ll be up to you to avoid it!”

“What…? What are you saying?”

Suddenly, his bonds released, and he dropped to the floor like a ragdoll tossed aside by a bored child. He rubbed his head, which had fallen somewhat hard on the rocky ground, then frantically pushed himself to his feet. When he looked to see his captor, he had already disappeared down the dark corridor.

“Wait! Who are you? Why did you let me go?!”

A lone voice echoed, sing-songy like a kid on his way to the ice cream parlor.

“See ya next time, Saihara-chan!”

  
  


~~~~~

His name was Ouma Kokichi. What he said about himself was mostly true. In Japan, he was a child prodigy who had made a name for himself after solving a complex murder case singlehandedly at the ripe young age of sixteen. He was granted admission to the most prestigious criminal justice program in the country and graduated in only a year with perfect scores on his exit exam. He rose through the ranks over the course of a few short months and now acts as lead detective in global criminal cases, mainly getting his funds from Interpol. He had apprehended some of world’s most notorious bad guys and even unearthed a string of criminal activities that were once heralded as simple conspiracy theories. He was in another league entirely, a highly-skilled monster that was capable of shutting down DICE’s operations permanently.

Ouma’s work had led him directly to Saihara. The papers claimed he was the only one who could catch him, and they had proven to be right. However, the only people who knew this for a fact were the detective himself, Saihara, and now the other founding members of his secret organization.

He mulled over this new information in the kitchen while he was hunched over a cup of french press and his brand new Macbook pro. The others prepared breakfast as he toiled away. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration as the gears in his head spun out of control as he shifted through pages and pages of official government documents detailing the life and accomplishments of the ultimate detective. Neither Akamatsu nor Momota could snap him out of it. Harukawa was a bit less gentle; she had never been known for her patience or tact.

“Why the hell do you care about this guy so much?” She bemoaned, whacking the back of his head after he’d been brooding in silence for hours. “He’s just another pig. It’s not like we haven’t dealt with his kind before.”

“It’s really bothering me,” their leader mumbled while rubbing the sore spot on his head. “Any sane cop would’ve taken me in. Why would he let me go?”

“Didn’t he say he wanted more of a challenge?” Akamatsu chimed in while flipping over another pancake. “Maybe he just wants to mess with you. I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Boss!” Momota cried out as he entered the kitchen, slapping his partner so hard on the back he nearly spit out his drink. “Stop wasting time on this! We’ve got another job tonight and we still don’t have the logistics figured out! Save it for later, alright?”

“My idiot boyfriend is right,” Harukawa replied with her unusual display of affection, wrapping her arms around Momota’s chest and resting her chin on his shoulder. “I’d like to know about our escape route _before_ we get there. Unless you want to die.” Her eyes instantly grew intense. It felt like her gaze was boring holes into him.

Saihara sighed, closing his laptop unceremoniously before turning to face his team.

“Alright, fine. But we need to discuss this later. He could put all of our life’s work in jeopardy if we’re not careful.”

The three of them huddled around the dining room table, two providing words of affirmation while one gave Saihara much needed tough love. They shoved forkfuls of pancakes in their mouths as they plotted out the details their next job. 

In the process, a picture of Kokichi Ouma fell from one of the open files on the table onto the floor unnoticed. His round and youthful face, forever frozen in time, smirked up at Saihara as the thief ruminated on the future ahead of him.


	2. First interrogation.

Nothing in this world was more satisfying to Ouma Kokichi than solving an unbeatable puzzle. And that was what he had found in Saihara Shuichi, his new rival and the one who had given him new purpose.

Although he’d only been in the field for a couple years, he was growing bored with the mundaneness of it all. None of the criminal cases he had solved over the course of his career gave him the contentment he truly desired. It was always too easy; consistently being twelve steps ahead of everyone else meant that he usually had to wait at the finish line for his colleagues to catch up. There was no challenge, no opportunity for growth or development. And on top of that, most police forces were filled with common thugs who wanted to be worshiped for doing absolutely nothing good for the world. It was beginning to eat away at him, knowing he was the only one who truly wanted to make a change. His sense of justice seemed to fade more and more as time went on even though his ideals were the sole reason he picked up the job in the first place. 

How could he stay passionate when it was the same thing, over and over again?

Chasing the phantom thief gave him somewhat of a new lease on life, especially because he was so different. A dark robin hood of sorts, he didn’t seem to steal out of greed or desire for wealth, but for… spite. A spiteful sense of justice, one could say. 

Saihara was a special case, even if his supervisor Kirigiri thought otherwise. And Ouma was going to dig up every morsel of dirt on him to prove her wrong.

However, that proved to be easier said than done. Despite how simple he made it sound to his colleagues, it had been extremely difficult to locate information about the phantom thief even for the ultimate detective. He didn’t have a lead until the beginning of his first year and ended up calling an old friend for a favor. Once Fujisaki sent him the hacked files he requested, he spent six months traveling around the most rural parts of Japan, seeking out the small village the raven-haired man had originated from. By pure luck, he stumbled across Saihara’s only living relative, who gladly provided the birth certificate after a bit of ass kissing and gave him his first major clue to the thief’s identity. Once he had his government name, the rest was a breeze. It still wasn’t enough to get the full picture, but it was a start.

Everything came together the moment he made himself known to Saihara, and now that he met the man in the flesh he could finally begin to piece together the mysteries of his past. 

Sadly, it was an understatement to say that he was disappointed with how easy it had been to catch him. Ouma Kokichi knew better than to assume he was dealing with an amateur, but it was hard to cut his new rival any slack when he had fallen for one of the most foolish tricks in the books. 

It happened the day that Saihara broke into the governor’s mansion and stole a beaded drum from his art collection. He had escaped through the forest behind the property and was heading for the getaway car waiting for him on the other side of the lake. Before he could cross, he accidentally stepped into a snare and found himself dangling from the branch of a tree. It was one of the many traps Ouma had planted, assuming correctly that the forest was going to be his most probable escape route. It was so predictable, especially after studying Saihara’s movement patterns from all of his previous escapades. He was baffled; it was as if no one else paid attention to these things before; the cops were truly incompetent at their jobs.

In Ouma’s eyes, this was child’s play. However, he really couldn’t complain because it meant getting another chance to toy with his new rival.

He lurked behind a grove of trees, watching the thief struggle uselessly as he hung upside with both legs roped together and his arms dangling past his head. He was trying to use one of his gadgets to cut himself loose, but the material was proving to be too tough for even his advanced technology. His cries of frustration grew more urgent as he realized that getting away was going to be just as difficult as the last time.

This was the best thing about tormenting others: the buildup. Giving them false hope of escape, knowing it was near impossible. Increasing their anxiety and fear so that they explode when he finally makes his appearance. He’d mastered the art of interrogation long ago, and witnessing this moment was always his favorite part.

Truth be told, he didn’t really have a reason to question Saihara outside of his own amusement. If anything, he simply wanted to verify the information he’d gathered from his research. And maybe he wanted to mess with him for his own amusement. Just a little.

How could he not? He was a liar, that was certain, but he wasn’t lying when he told him he was cute. You could count on one hand how many people in the world had seen the phantom thief’s face up close, and even fewer had been able to take pictures of him. One of the only three in existence was currently in his possession; a blurry image of a young adult man with a gloomy frown and a black baseball cap pulled over his eyes.

Oh, those eyes… seeing that gorgeous hazel color for the first time almost made him choke. Almost. Ouma had a damn good poker face, but that didn’t mean it was unbreakable. He hadn’t expected him to be so attractive. He hadn’t expected to  _ be _ attracted to him. If he wasn’t careful, he knew he’d find himself falling deeper and deeper into a feeling he thought died in him long ago. 

But until then, he was determined to do everything in his power to keep Saihara in the palm of his hand.

His attention focused back on the scene in front of him. He hated to interrupt the thief's futile struggle for escape, especially when it was so entertaining to watch, but he had a job to do and he wanted it done before Kirigiri came through to spoil all the fun. So again, he stepped out of the darkness and made himself known.

At first, Saihara didn’t notice him, as he was too busy trying to aim a laser at the tree branch above, but once Ouma cleared his throat he flinched and turned in the direction of the sound. The detective flashed him a toothy grin and waved, receiving only a perturbed scowl in response.

“We meet again, Mr. Thief. Glad you could come ‘hang out’ for a bit!”

Saihara groaned at the pun as Ouma burst into laughter.

“Honestly, Shu-shu… caught in a snare? Can you get any more cliche?” He taunted the raven-haired man, circling around him as his captive tried grabbing him, unsuccessfully.

“Shut up… and don’t call me that!”

“Alright then, Shumai. I won’t call you that anymore.”

He saw his cheeks darken, and he wasn’t sure if it was the blood rushing to his head from hanging upside down or embarrassment. Or both.

“Not that either…”

“Fine, you big baby. In that case, let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight to the interrogation!” Ouma clapped his hands together, excited to play this twisted game. “You can begin by telling me what you prefer to be called.”

“Interrogation…?”

“Why do you think you’re tied up like this? It’s the perfect position for torture.”

He wasn’t  _ actually _ going to torture him, at least not in the way Saihara was assuming, but his hostage certainly didn’t know that. The sweat on his brow was visible. Good. He was getting properly nervous.

“Torture… what… don’t cops usually question people at the station?!”

“They do. But I’m not a cop. And I’d like a bit more privacy with my darling Shu-boo.” He gave him a loving pat on the cheek, to Saihara’s annoyance.

“Enough with that…”

“Awww, you don’t like pet names?”

“No! I mean, stop playing around! If you’re going to torture me then just  _ do it! _ ”

“Wooow! I didn’t know I had such a masochist on my hands! Fine, if you’re so eager to get tortured, I’ll cut to the chase.”

He tilted his head to get a better look at the thief. His hair looked soft as silk and shined brightly under the sunlight. He must have just washed it recently. His skin was pale, almost moon-like. Probably from spending his life in the shadows. Even so, he was beautiful, something that Ouma almost said aloud but caught himself before it was too late.

“I’d like to know a little bit more about you, Saihara Shuichi. Maybe we can start with your nickname preferences. Personally I prefer honeybuns or sweetcheeks, but I understand you have different tastes.”

“What? What are you talking about? Why are you asking me that?”

“Why not?”

Saihara grumbled, and Ouma could sense his irritation growing. Most likely from both confusion and frustration.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

Ouma got uncomfortably close once again, crouching down so that his face was level with Saihara’s. He poked his cheek playfully, his smile growing wider when the thief jerked away and swatted his hands in defense.

“Ya know, if you cooperate, this will go by a whole lot faster and we can both be on our merry ways. But then, that would be really boring for me... After all, I’ve really been looking forward to having fun with you.”

He snickered when a look of horror flashed across Saihara’s face. This guy was so responsive. Really, he could say anything and get an over the top reaction.

“What kind of detective are you?”

“Would you like to find out?”

“...”

Ouma slowly stood up, poking Saihara’s chest in random spots just to experiment. The white jacket he wore provided little protection from his gentle attacks, and in the scuffle the checkered scarf around his neck eventually fell off. The thief’s arms shot up (down?) in an attempt to block him while letting out little pathetic whimpers. This spurred Ouma on, who continued digging his spindly hands into his sensitive spots.

“Ngh…! Hnf!  _ Don’t! _ ”

“First question: you’re from a subprefecture in Hokkaido, non?”

“Ah! Mph, wh-huh?”

Ouma paused for a second, realizing he was about to receive confirmation.

“You’re probably wondering where I got that copy of your birth certificate, right? Your uncle was such a good host to me. He’s a lovely man, you should really go back and visit him sometime!”

“My uncle…? Wait, he’s still alive?!”

“That’s right! Alive and as surly as ever! He spoke highly of you, but for some reason he was under the impression that you died.”

The raven-haired man didn’t seem too happy about that, which actually surprised Ouma. In fact, he looked really sad as soon as he mentioned him. 

“Hey, why the long face? Like I said, you can always go back and visit!”

The thief shook his head solemnly.

“No, no… I couldn’t… not now…”

“Mmm. I get it. I loved seeing my beloved Saihara-chan’s hometown, but it is a little quaint for my taste. I can see why you’d leave for the big city.”

Saihara was quiet, puzzling so hard over Ouma’s words the detective could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Your silence is telling. So I can safely assume my information is correct?”

“But… how did you find him? I got rid of all my stuff from before, so it really shouldn’t have been possible.”

Ouma flicked his forehead, causing him to rock back slightly.

“Um, doi? Does the title ‘ultimate detective’ mean nothing to you?”

Saihara pushed his hand away and rubbed the spot on his forehead where Ouma had touched.

“If you know all this already, then why interrogate me…”

The detective shrugged, looking slightly bored.

“‘Cause I’m a sadistic freak who gets off on seeing cute guys like you getting terrorized.”

When he saw his eyes widen, he figured it was time to dial things back. Saihara didn’t seem to catch onto sarcasm easily.

“Just kidding. I’m a liar, remember? You have such bad memory, Shu-chan…”

Ouma took a seat on the ground. He crossed his legs and watched his captive stare at him intensely.

“I mostly do it ‘cause it’s fun. But also because there’s one thing I don’t know, and can’t seem to figure out about you.”

“Which is?”

Ouma poked his nose as he spoke, pursing his lips a little for emphasis.

“Your motivation. How, and why, did a little boy from a small village become a world famous pacifist vigilante?”

Saihara looked like he was in pain, glancing down at the dirt instead of looking at his captor. 

“How do you know I’m a pacifist? How do you know I haven’t hurt people...”

The detective shook his head as he began to pace again.

“The only victims of your crimes have been rich art snobs crying about their lost profits. You rarely use violence unless confronted directly by law enforcement, and even then it’s only in self defense. No one’s ever walked away from you with more than a scratch or a bruised kneecap.”

He stopped pacing, crouching in front of Saihara again so he could look into his eyes while he spoke. The other man clung to every word he said, as if it was his salvation. Ouma made sure to remember this moment for future reference.

“Wait, you’re saying…”

“That’s right, Shoo-chi. The truth is, you’ve never killed or even seriously injured a single soul in your life.”

He stared at the upside down thief, who seemed like he was retreating into himself. His efforts seemed to have done the opposite of what he wanted; Saihara was closed off even more than before. Ouma wondered if he had pushed too hard, and felt a tinge of regret for a moment.

“But you’ve stolen plenty. And I want to know why.”

Saihara pressed his lips together and looked away, refusing to utter another word. He hung there limp, weakened from all the wiggling he’d just done.

“Not talking, eh? That’s fine, more fun for me!”

Ouma flicked his nose before using both hands to poke his ribs. This must’ve been a sweet spot; the thief’s thrashing started anew and he even let out a few uncharacteristic squeals.

“Hey-! No, don’t! Stop that - aha!”

“Honestly, Shushu… I’m barely touching you. If you can’t even handle this, you might as well give up now because it’s only going to get worse.”

Hearing that made Saihara’s pitch grow in volume. Ouma could tell he was on the verge of panicking, so he stepped back for a moment and gave him a moment to collect himself.

“Ah… jeez… why are you… doing this…”

“Hey. I’m asking the questions here,” He stated matter-of-factly, poking the tip of his nose again. “And you still haven’t answered my last one.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” Saihara complained, swinging his head away from Ouma’s touch. “You’re just gonna lock me up in the end. It doesn’t matter if my intentions are good or not. Cops don’t care about what’s right or wrong…”

The detective crossed his arms.

“Hmph. You’re breaking my heart here, Shu. I already told you I’m not a cop. I, too, seek justice on a grand scale. And if my detective’s hunch is correct, then you and I are really two peas of a pod.”

Saihara’s frown deepened, apparently put off by the comparison.

“No. I’m nothing like you.”

“So this Robin Hood ideal of yours is just an act, and not because you believe in divine retribution?”

“Well…”

Before he could finish, Ouma’s right pocket vibrated as the sound of a kawaii future bass song began ringing through the air. He grabbed his phone and swore loudly before silencing it again.

“Shit.”

He let out a dejected sigh, pouting with furrowed brows as he pondered his next action. Saihara cringed when he saw the detective pull a strange looking knife from his pocket, but relaxed when he started sawing at the rope around his ankle. He dropped to the ground clumsily, rubbing his head after hitting the hard ground. He noticed the detective walking away, his black and white striped jacket slowly fading into the distance, waving his hand as if to shoo him off.

“Playtime’s over. Go on, get out of here.”

“...What?! You’re just gonna let me go again?”

Ouma stopped in his tracks, turning around with a scowl. He barked at Saihara, who was a bit shocked to see him showing emotion for once.

“Do you wanna stand here and scream at me or do you want to get away? If you dawdle any longer, Captain Kirigiri will arrive and then even I won’t be able to do anything for you. Stop whining and go already!”

Saihara stared at him in confusion, his eyes darting to and fro as he searched Ouma’s expression for any sign of authenticity. Without another word, he turned on his heel and ran towards the lake, engaging one of his devices before he plunged headfirst into it. Ouma watched as he swam across, the thief now donning what appeared to be a scuba suit, and noticed a yellow Jeep waiting for him on the other side. He waved cheerfully, wondering if his accomplices could see him from there.

And like clockwork, Kirigiri and her forces arrived right as the Jeep pulled off onto the road. The head detective stepped out of the vehicle, dressed to the nines in designer fashion. Her right hand woman followed at her heel; Shirogane looked as meek as ever with her glasses falling down the bridge of her nose and her hair covering most of her thin face.

“Where’s the Phantom Thief?” Kirigiri demanded without so much as a greeting.

Ouma turned to his superior with tears in his eyes and began wailing loudly. Fat crocodile tears rolled down his round cheeks, giving him the appearance of a small toddler. Shirogane was taken aback, but the head detective didn’t so much as blink.

“Oh, Kiri-san! I turned my back for just a moment and he slipped right out of my fingers again! I’m beside myself with grief.”

“Aww, it’s okay Ouma-san… it’s happened to all of us,” Shirogane said in attempt to console him. Kirigiri rolled her eyes at both of them.

“Enough of the theatrics. You’ve caught him twice, and both times have failed to bring him in. I’m starting to question your resolve, Ouma.”

The tears suddenly ceased, just as quickly as they came. Ouma wiped his eyes with the back of his coat sleeve and put both hands on his hips as he spoke.

“Now now, no need to make any wild accusations. I assure you that I’m doing everything in my power to apprehend this heinous villain.”

Kirigiri narrowed her eyes in a show of distrust.

“You do understand the consequences you’ll face if I discover you’re acting as his accomplice.” 

“Oh, but of course. I wouldn’t dream of it. Throw my entire career away for a common thief? Please. I know we just started working together, but you gotta give me more credit than that Kiri-san.”

“It’s Kirigiri-sama, to you. And I highly suggest that you start taking this more seriously. I can’t guarantee the full support of Interpol if you continue on this path.”

Ouma gave her a salute, furthering her annoyance.

“I hear you loud and clear, Mrs. Boss Lady.”

She shot him another deathly glare before turning around to head back to the squad car. Shirogane gave him a weak little smile, one that incited irrational rage within him, before following suit. Ouma kept a smile on his face the whole time as his heart pounded with excitement. Today hadn’t been a total loss; in fact, it had been absolutely amazing. 

Before he made his own leave, he looked back across the lake and sighed pensively, wondering where in the world he would see his beloved nemesis again. He noticed a flash of black and white from the corner of his eye and spotted the discarded handkerchief tossed on the ground. He picked it up and shoved it in his pocket.

“You’re not a boring person at all, Shuichi Saihara,” was his last thought before he got in the car and drove off in the opposite direction of the lake.   



	3. First sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for gun violence/blood near the end of the chapter, I did my best to keep it from getting too graphic but I still wanted to give a heads up! 
> 
> also sorry this chapter's so long i got carried away sakjfhkj

It was a long time before Saihara saw him again. After getting caught two times within the same week, he realized he needed to stop underestimating Ouma Kokichi and take things more seriously if he wanted to keep enjoying his freedom. He devoted most of his time to planning out their getaways, driven not by fear but a strange feeling of competitiveness. 

He wanted to send a message: the Phantom Thief wasn’t about to get bested by some novice, even if he was a genius. 

He spent countless hours hunched over half filled cups of French press, studying the ultimate detective’s past in an attempt to get into his mind and spend some time in his shoes. For work purposes, of course. Nothing more. At least, that’s what he tried to tell his subordinates.

Harukawa confronted him one day in his study during the early morning, after he had pulled his third all-nighter that week. His eyes had been glued to Ouma’s file since dusk, and he looked as if he was about to pass out any second. 

“Boss. With all due respect, I think you should give it a rest. He’s not worth all this.”

Saihara managed to peel his eyes away from a childhood photo of Ouma to address her. They were completely bloodshot and his hair was a greasy, disheveled mess.

“Wha? We have a guest?” he said with a raspy, crackling voice.

“Alright, you need a nap. Get up.”

It wasn’t a request. She grabbed his shoulders, forced him to stand and led him to the futon on the other side of the room. He obeyed without protest. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyelids snapped shut like heavy shades.

“I need to know more about him,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Leave it to us. We’ll get some intel. You sleep.”

He murmured something she didn’t quite catch before drifting off to sleep. He didn’t wake up for another day and a half. 

Momota and Akamatsu stood at the doorway, sharing Harukawa’s concern as their leader got some much needed rest.

“He’s got it bad,” Akamatsu said, leaning against the door with crossed arms.

“What do you mean?” Momota scratched his head. “You think he’s sick?”

“Let’s just say he’s sick with something that has no cure,” Harukawa spoke vaguely.

“WHAT?! You’re tellin’ me the boss is gonna die?!”

She rolled her eyes before hitting his chest with the back of her hand.

“Kaito, shut the hell up. I meant that he’s got an obsession.”

“Ooooh! Wait, huh!? An obsession with what?”

Harukawa sighed. Momota really was in his own little world.

“You’re such an idiot…”

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


Before either of them knew it, one year passed, then two. Ouma Kokichi stayed on his trail the entire time, never relenting no matter where the phantom thief went. He followed him to London, chasing him past Big Ben with a squad of cop cars as Momota struggled to master left sided driving. He cornered him on Arbat Street in Moscow after running after him on foot for over an hour. He even found him in a rural village in Poland, where he was returning some of the stolen gems his team had copped from the Green Vault. And each time, Saihara was only able to get out of Ouma’s clutches by the skin of his teeth.

However, there were times when he had no choice but to get caught. Like the time he was hanging off a skyscraper in New York City and his only choice was taking Ouma’s hand or falling to his death. Ouma made sure to tease him more than usual that time, throwing the fact that he “saved his life” back in his face when Saihara tried to complain. He really got it that time; it was months before he could listen to K-pop without losing his mind.

After their first three meetings or so, that original fear he felt during his first captures had all but disappeared. He knew he was never in any real danger with Ouma, despite his threats of torture. The shorter man always stayed true to his word; Saihara was tormented thoroughly, in ways that didn’t leave marks. Ouma’s methods were definitely unorthodox, to say the least. Sometimes he’d force Saihara to watch some stupid cartoon with him, or help him practice some new dance crave from the most recent viral videos. Other times he’d draw obscene pictures on his body with a permanent marker, which was hell getting off in the shower afterwards. Once in a while he’d get really handsy, and those times were when Saihara suffered the most. Under the pretense of “interrogation”, he’d ask him random questions that seemed to have no importance or relevance to anything. Things like what his favorite soda flavor was or what kind of dreams he’d been having lately. Why he always wore a handkerchief and why he never dyed his hair wild colors. He always made sure to ask something deeply personal or embarrassing, too, which prompted more “torture” when Saihara refused to answer.

But Ouma never, ever hurt him.

He never turned him in, either. In fact, it almost seemed like he was keeping their “meetings” a secret from his colleagues. There was one time Saihara stuck around after Ouma released him, which allowed him to catch the tail end of a conversation between the detective and the captain of Interpol. He lurked around a nearby corner, close enough to hear every word.

“Well?” Although she barely said a word, her voice was so cold and callous listening to it felt like ice was being poured down his spine. It was fitting for someone who dedicated her life to locking people up.

“Sorry, but tonight was moot Kiri-san! That calling card must’ve been a false alarm. A looooot of copycats are coming out of the woodworks nowadays.” 

Ouma used the same playful tone of voice as he did with him. Saihara was shocked that he was able to speak so casually to his superior without consequence, but even more surprised that he was covering for him.

“Was anything stolen?”

“Nah. Everything was in its rightful place when I got here. Perhaps the phantom thief has finally retired?”

“Doubtful. I’d like you to do a full sweep of the premises before you leave.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Boss Lady!”

The captain seemed less than pleased. The way she was looking at him made Saihara think she didn’t have any trust in her partner. Not that he could blame her. Trying to understand his intentions seemed like a lost cause.

After witnessing that, he decided to play into Ouma’s hands. Perhaps he could turn the tables and throw him off for once.

The other members of DICE weren’t fond of the idea, but Saihara had made up his mind and they knew better than to try and talk him out of it. The four of them made sure to come up with a set of emergency plans to bust him out in case worst came to worst, and when the day came all were prepared.

This time, Saihara sent a calling card to Ouma’s office directly. He knew he’d interpret it as a personal challenge and would come alone, without the captain or the police force’s knowledge. Then they’d get a chance to speak in private without worrying about their time getting cut short. He was sure Ouma would _love_ the idea.

He arrived at the meeting point as the clock struck midnight and found a comfortable seat near a bubbling fountain. The Central Garden at the Getty Museum was abloom with vibrant flowers and lush foliage that looked like a dark Monet painting under the moonlight. The lights from the houses on the hills gave him more than enough visibility. He waited in silence, well disguised by the curtain of night.

While he was distracted by the views of the city, he felt something cold and metallic clamp down on both wrists, and suddenly he couldn’t move his arms from behind his back. He pulled away and realized Ouma had snuck up on him, grinning like a wild animal about to devour its prey. His purple tinted hair stuck out in all directions as if he’d just rolled out of bed without bothering to brush it, a juxtaposition to his freshly ironed striped jacket and matching pants. He truly was a walking contradiction.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he greeted in his usual cheerful tone. Saihara kept a straight face, unwilling to give his rival a reaction so early on. The detective sat about a foot away with one leg crossed and one ankle resting on his knee

“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” He shook them for emphasis.

“Uh, yeah! It’s tradition! I can’t have the phantom thief running off on me in the middle of an interrogation!”

“Fair point… but what if I promised not to run away?”

“Nice try, Mr. Thief, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Consider this to be insurance.”

He scooted towards Saihara slowly, trying to build up anticipation. It was one of his scare tactics Saihara had learned early on. In the beginning it used to intimidate him, but nowadays it was easier to keep a straight face even with his heart pounding against his chest.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” he said, flashing his rival a half smile.

“Huuuuh? A meeting?” Ouma cocked his head to the side. “Wait a second… did you purposely let me capture you?! You’re one kinky bastard, Saihara-chan.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know that already.”

At that, Ouma knocked him over (gently, of course) and climbed over him so he could straddle his hips. He gazed down at the tied man underneath him and smirked.

“Oh, I knew. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

He started poking his sides, alternating between one and the other, while Saihara squirmed as much as he could while trapped in place.

“Wait, no! Why do you always do thi- aaaah! Aha, stop!”

“Why do you always ask me why I do things? You should know by now, dummy.”

“Hold on!! Just - agh! Gimme a break!”

“Your laugh is so sweet, Shumai. I could listen to it aaaaall day~!”

“Please, no… not that…”

He stopped after a couple seconds, resting the palms of his hands on his stomach. His hands were light and airy, barely noticeable to Saihara as his chest heaved up and down while he gulped as much air as he could. 

“Then how should I torture you this time, hmm? Should I pull out some of your chest hair one by one? Oh, but you don’t have any…”

“Hey… ah!”

Saihara shivered when he suddenly felt cool evening air brush against his chest. Ouma had undone two of the top buttons on his undershirt, just enough to take a peek. The thief’ felt his face heat up with embarrassment as the detective caressed his bare skin with two fingertips. It felt nice, but he had to keep it together if his plan was going to work...

“Your skin’s so soft. What kind of lotion do you use?”

“If I tell you, will you uncuff me?”

“If I say yes, will you believe me?”

“You’re impossible,” the thief said with a small laugh.

“And yet you still can’t help but fall deep, deeply in love with me.”

“Sorry, but I’m not into guys,” Saihara said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Oho? You know, I really hate liars…”

He traced a line from his neck to his chest and appeared to relish the muffled shrieks Saihara was trying so desperately to suppress. The thief scrunched his shoulders while squeezing his eyes shut, trying to drown out the tingly sensation.

“Wait, nnnngh! I’m not lying!”

The detective stopped abruptly, and Saihara opened his eyes again he noticed Ouma’s pitiful expression. His eyes were wet with tears, presumably fake. The thief knew what was coming next.

“So you really feel nothing for me? WAAAH!”

Ouma wailed loudly, spiking his rival’s anxiety knowing that security would come running if they heard the commotion. He tried to shush him up, annoyed he’d pull out the crocodile tears at a time like this.

“Be quiet! Someone will hear us!”

The plum-haired man pulled out a tissue and blew his nose loudly. Saihara rolled his eyes.

“So obnoxious…”

“Saihara-chan can be so cruel sometimes... “ he whined, dotting his eyes dramatically. The thief tried to move on, hoping to stay on topic this time.

“Anyway... I wanted to talk to you, Ouma. There’s something I need to know..”

“Hmm? You’re really gonna trust the word of a liar like me?”

“Yeah. I don’t think you lie as much as you say you do.”

“Then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

Saihara felt like he was speaking to a toddler. He sighed before going on, his patience starting to grow thin.

“Ouma. Why did you become a detective?”

“What kinda question is that? And I’m not Ouma, I’m Ouma- _chan_. Get it right, sweetie.”

He really was impossible. Saihara wanted to scream.

“Alright.... _Ouma-chan_ … when we first met, you asked me why I became a thief. Well… I want to know why you became a detective.”

“Hmm, I guess I did. But as I recall, you never gave me an answer.”

“I’ll give you my answer if you give me yours.”

He thought the detective would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but shockingly Ouma went silent as soon as he made the suggestion. It was like a shadow had suddenly been cast over him, and for a moment his goofy charade disappeared. For Saihara, it was unsettling to see his arch nemesis in such low spirits.

“Saihara… you know how people say that the past should stay in the past?”

“...Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

That was all he could get out of him. He was completely baffled. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy to convince Ouma to open up, but this was the last thing he had expected. 

“So… you’re not gonna tell me?”

Ouma shrugged.

“What’s there to tell? That kinda stuff’s ancient history. I’m more interested in the now, ya know?”

“What is the now?”

The shadow seemed to dissipate as Ouma suddenly perked up again. He smiled brightly, cupping one of Saihara’s cheeks and giving it a little tap.

“The now is you. Duh.”

Saihara wanted to say more, but their conversation was cut short by the sound of an ominous click.

The two of them froze in place, knowing all too well what was to come next. They turned to see where the noise had come from gasped when their eyes fell on a dark-haired woman holding a gun just a few feet away.

“... Shirogane?”

The captain’s assistant shot Ouma a cruel smile, hoisting the gun in her hand higher as she pointed it directly at the phantom thief. Her glasses fell down the bridge of her nose as her gaze bore holes into the two men in front of her.

“Good job, Ouma-san. I’ll take it from here.”

The detective instinctively put his hands up as he slowly rose to his feet, putting himself in between her and Saihara. The raven-haired man kept a close eye on her, fiddling with his handcuffs while Ouma kept her distracted.

“Whatcha doin’ with that gun, huh?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m helping you apprehend this criminal. One that I’m not afraid to shoot, if need be.”

“What’s with all the violence? Can’t we talk things out like civilized people?”

“There’s nothing to discuss. Bring him here and we’ll book him at the station. Then we can celebrate our victory together.”

Saihara watched them carefully, still having trouble picking the lock on his cuffs. Ouma kept his head high and stood firm, showing no signs of fear or nerves. The thief was amazed that he could hold his composure so well knowing his acquaintance wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.

“Ahh… I get it now. You’re trying to piggyback off me. You want Boss Lady's position.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Shirogane barked. “I’ve been in this field way longer than you, and I’m not about to be overshadowed by some brown-nosing rookie.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll hand him over willingly. You think I’m gonna let you take all the credit when I’m the one in charge of this case? He’s mine. You can’t have him.”

“Get out of my way, or I’ll shoot.”

“Make me.”

Saihara nudged him with an elbow. He was halfway out of his restraints and if Ouma would stop antagonizing her for a second, he’d have enough time to get them both out of there...

“Ouma, that's enough.”

“Shut up and get out of here already,” Ouma spat back in a hushed whisper. The thief physically recoiled at the suggestion.

“What?! No! I’m not leaving you here!”

“You have to! We don’t have time!”

“Both of you _shut up!_ Or I swear I’ll shoot!”

“You’re bluffing," Ouma called her out. "You don’t have it in you. You’re just a weak, spineless wannabe who can’t do anything on her own. Stop playing dress up and just go home.”

“Stop it! You’re wrong!”

Her finger rested on the trigger, ready to pull. Saihara could barely see, but in that moment he lost all logical thought. Her hands were shaking like mad and if she pulled, there was no telling who would get hit.

“Ouma, stop!”

“Do it then! _Do it!!_ ” 

“No-!”

The next seconds went by in a blur. Time seemed to melt into itself as colors and sounds mixed against one another. Saihara slipped his wrists out of the loosened cuffs and moved before his mind could form thought. He saw a flash of plum-colored hair in front of his eyes and instinctively reached out. His hands grasped the back of Ouma’s collar. He pulled him towards his chest right as the sound of a gunshot fired through the air, falling backwards onto the hard pavement.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for pain. His head hit something hard and he knocked his elbow into a sharp edge, but otherwise he felt fine. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around his detective, praying to any god that was listening to have him take the bullet instead.

After a few seconds, he still felt nothing. He opened his eyes cautiously, blinking a mile per minute as he scoured his surroundings for the aftermath. 

He was unharmed. She missed him.

But Ouma wasn’t so lucky.

The shorter man lay in his arms, his breathing heavy and ragged. Saihara felt something wet and warm on his hands. He looked down and almost screamed. The bullet had grazed Ouma’s left arm, leaving a trail of crimson blood dripping from the wound. He groaned, tiptoeing the edge of consciousness, and in a panic his rival cried out to Shirogane-

“You _shot_ him!”

The hand that held the gun shook vigorously until she finally dropped it and collapsed in a kneeling position. Her face was pale, as if all the blood had drained from her body. She stared at the two men in shock and couldn't do much besides babble incoherently.

“I… I didn’t… no… I’m... sorry… I…”

There wasn’t time. While the captain's assistant was out of it, Saihara pressed a button on his belt, signaling his team for backup. He heard the faint sound of a helicopter in the distance that got louder and louder until it was hovering right above them. A ladder rope hung from the door with a concerned Momota holding onto the bottom. He called out to Saihara, barely audible over the sound of the chopper.

“Booooooooss! What happened?!”

Saihara carried Ouma bridal style in his arms, lifting him in a handoff fashion to his partner in crime who gaped at him in disbelief.

“Take him! Hurry!”

“ _Y_ _ou’re bringing him with?!_ ”

“ _Go!!_ There’s no time!”

Momota obeyed, signaling for Harukawa to pilot the copter away. He carefully tossed the unconscious Ouma over his shoulder and climbed up with Saihara closely following suit. They circled around the city, making sure to throw off anyone who happened to be on their track, and when they were sure no cops were on their tail they headed back towards one of DICE's American bases.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


“Soooo… you wanna tell us what this is all about?”

Saihara looked sheepish kneeling at Ouma’s side as his three closest subordinates stood in the doorway with countless questions going through their minds. Akamatsu was sick with worry and hadn’t left his side since they arrived. Harukawa refused to speak, shooting daggers at the wounded detective recovering on the futon in the spare room. Momota was as lost as ever, asking question after question yet still failing to wrap his head around the situation.

“Um… well, I went to my meeting with Ouma, and didn’t realize we had been followed..”

“By whom?”

“One of his colleagues. I think she’s the assistant to the captain.”

“Was he going to betray you?” Akamatsu wondered aloud.

“I don’t think so. He was just as surprised as I was when she showed up. Also, she was aiming at both of us. He moved in front of me, and I tried pulling him away but…” His voice trailed off as he suddenly felt ill. Was there more he could have done…?

“What?! Why would he do that?” Harukawa cried out, narrowing her eyes even further as she watched Ouma’s unsteady breaths rise and fall. 

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Boss. You shouldn’t have brought him here,” Akamatsu said worriedly. “Now we’re all in danger.”

Saihara shook his head.

“No. He’s safer here than anywhere else. No one knows that this flat exists, and even if they did it’s in between borders so none of the nearby forces have any authority.”

“Good God… I should have taken him out when I had the chance,” Harukawa’s voice was seething with rage.

“Maki Roll, now’s not the time…” Momota put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off in anger.

“Whatever. Don’t ask me for any help. I don’t care if he saved your life, he’s still a bastard cop and he can’t be trusted.”

She stormed off, prompting Momota to follow her. Only Akamatsu remained at her leader’s side. All the commotion stirred his injured companion, which demanded all of Saihara’s attention.

“...huh…”

Hearing his little groans made Saihara’s heart leap through his chest. The thief placed a hand on his head, feeling an immense heat radiate from the flushed skin.

“Ouma! Are you alright? Speak to me!”

The detective’s eyes slowly opened, revealing soft lavender irises drenched in discomfort. Saihara brushed his long hair out of his face so he could dot his sweaty forehead with a warm wet towel. Ouma mumbled something almost incoherent as he worked.

“Hngh… you’re really… cute…”

The phantom thief sighed in relief. Akamatsu just watched, observing the scene unfold without judgement.

“Stay with me. The nurse is on her way. You’re gonna be okay. Just stay with me.”

He grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, smiling when Ouma squeezed it back. He never comprehended how small he was until that moment. The way he carried himself made him appear larger than life. His confidence, his arrogance. Yet now, as he laid beside Saihara, he looked so fragile and delicate. As if his entire persona had been stripped away. 

“You think this is bad… my playground bullies did way worse… ACK!”

Ouma tried to sit up and winced, clutching his injured arm as every muscle in his body tensed. Saihara laid his head back down on the pillow with utmost care.

“Don’t move! Just lay down for now.”

Ouma chuckled a little, which soon turned into a slight cough.

“Saihara-chan is doting on me… I should get shot more often… heh…”

The phantom thief would have smacked him if the situation was different. He was still such a tease, even now. How ridiculous.

“Shhh. Enough with the jokes. Your wound is pretty deep, and you still have a fever. You need to save your energy.”

Ouma shut his eyes and focused his efforts on breathing normally. Saihara just watched him, making sure he didn’t make any more unnecessary movements. It was quiet for a while until the detective piped up again.

“You could’ve just left me, you know.”

“No. I would never do that to you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. As if we haven’t been sworn enemies for the past two years.”

“Enemy or not, I’d never leave someone who saved my life.”

“Saihara-chan... such a sap…”

Ouma seemed like he was trying to make another teasy comment, but instead he faded off into a light sleep. The pain killers had probably started to kick in. Saihara stood up and turned to leave, but was surprised to see Akamatsu still standing there. He felt a bit self conscious upon realizing she’d heard everything.

“What are we gonna do now, boss?” she asked once they made their way out of the room. The DICE leader took a seat on the living room sofa and hung his head, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

She sat next to him and rubbed his back, which made him relax a bit more. 

“Do you… do you think I did the right thing?”

It wasn’t like him to question his choices, but he trusted Akamatsu’s opinions more than almost anyone else. She never sugar coated things, but she still had tact and never lied to spare his feeling. He figured that was one reason why they had worked harmoniously together for so long.

“Do you have any regrets?” she asked.

He paused for a moment, then shook his head.

“No, not really. If I could go back in time, I’d do it all over again.”

She smiled warmly, putting a hand on his knee in support.

“Then yes. I think you did the right thing.”

He smiled back. An intense feeling of gratitude came over him. He was lucky to have her there.

“Thanks, Kaede.”

The conversation ended when they heard a knock at the door. He answered promptly and let Nurse Mikan inside right away so she could get to work. He watched as she spent the next few hours patching up his detested rival, staying by his side until the first light of dawn peeked through the windows.


	4. First confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is tooth-rotting fluff and gay panic, I am So sorry
> 
> tw for knife threat early on!

For two days, Ouma felt like he was floating in between worlds. He never knew for certain when he was dreaming or awake; everything was muddled, like watercolor paints spilling out over a blank canvas. In the beginning there was a high pitched voice and the outline of a young woman with unevenly cut hair who stuttered every time she spoke and kept apologizing for reasons unknown. He tried to speak once or twice, but all that came out was indecipherable mumbling. After a while, he gave it up and resigned himself to laying still.

His shoulder hurt the most. It felt like large, hot coals were sizzling under his skin. The pain was throbbing and consistent, but it got better after the first day. When he was finally able to stay awake for longer than a couple minutes, the pain had been reduced to a dull thud. He still couldn’t move his arm without wincing, but it was bearable. Things could’ve been worse.

It was evening when he fully came to. He recognized Saihara’s voice talking from the other room along with some other indistinct voices he couldn’t quite make out. He figured it was a good time to do some investigating. He rose cautiously, taking care not to aggravate his injury again, and walked like a ghost with the lightest footsteps possible until he stood outside the door. It was slightly ajar, and he could make out most of the conversation.

The phantom thief was in what looked to be a study, surrounded by three others Ouma had never seen before. There was a statuesque blonde woman about average height, a giant athletic looking man with a goatee, and a stoic brunette who looked like she could kill a man with looks alone. They appeared to be having a round table discussion, and it wasn’t long before he realized they were talking about him.

“... don’t like this. Not one bit.”

“What if he reveals our location? Boss, we’re screwed if that happens...”

“I know, I’m worried too, but he’s been hurt…”

Saihara was standing up for him. The brunette seemed less than pleased. She would most likely be his biggest problem. The blonde seemed more worried about Saihara, and the goatee man talked like his brain was made of rocks. Ouma decided to focus his efforts on observing the stoic girl.

“Do you think he’d do the same for you?” blondie asked.

“Yeah, I know he would. He’s covered for me before.”

It was true. In fact, he nearly lost his job for it on more than one occasion. But Saihara didn’t need to know that.

“Boss. There’s something I need to know,” the brunette demanded.

“What is it, Maki?”

Finally, a name to match the face. Ouma made a mental note to himself to remember it. Then, his ears perked up when he heard his name mentioned for the first time.

“Who is Ouma Kokichi to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The way you talk about him, this fixation you have… Why are you doing all this for a damn cop?”

So that’s what they thought of him. Getting lumped in with those imbeciles was making him irrationally angry, but he had to keep a clear mind. He pushed those feelings aside and continued listening.

“I… I just… I want to know him better. The real man, behind the lies and the acting.”

He saw the blonde put a hand on his shoulder.

“Shuichi, be honest. Do you have feelings for him?”

Ouma felt like he had been slammed against a wall. He felt his chest contract within itself and forced himself to take long, deep breaths to stay level headed. His eyes grew wide as he leaned in closer, hanging onto every one of Saihara’s next words. 

“What?! No! Why would you even ask something like that?! I’m not into guys!”

The detective scoffed. What a terrible lie. Luckily, the blonde wasn’t having it.

“Shuichi. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to us.”

“I’m not... I mean, I don’t think I am…”

“Think about it. Do you remember when we went to Guatemala?”

“Yeah… why?”

“Do you remember who we met there?”

“Who? ...oh! You mean Rantaro?”

“Oh yeah, I remember Amami! The guy with the weird hair and all those piercings? I never saw the boss get so tongue tied around someone before! Kaede had to translate for him so many times! Ha ha!”

So Kaede was her name. Ouma concluded that they all had to be fairly close to be on a first name basis. However, he was much more curious about this Amami Rantaro fellow and his relationship to Saihara.

“Remember how you followed him around Central America for months and helped him look for his sister? We didn’t pull a single heist the entire time we were there.”

“...Yeah…”

Ouma saw his face getting redder and redder. An ugly, twisted feeling of jealousy consumed him, a grudge against a man he’d never even met. He swore he’d deal with this Amami Rantaro himself if ever given the opportunity.

“If I recall correctly, a certain supreme leader was absolutely _devastated_ when he found out Amami had a girlfriend waiting for him back home. You barely ate for a month.”

Saihara put a hand over his mouth, visibly embarrassed at the memory.

“That was different… Rantaro was…”

“Rantaro was what?”

Admitting defeat, the supreme leader slouched back in his chair. The stark realization of Kaede’s innuendo had finally dawned on him. 

“Oh my god. I… I liked him.”

Goatee man slapped his leader on the back, stirring him out of his moodiness.

“It’s alright, boss! You’re still our leader no matter who you wanna bump uglies with!”

“Kaito,” Maki nudged him in annoyance. Fitting. A dumb name for a dumb man. 

“He’s got a point,” Kaede continued. “It doesn’t matter who you love, you’re still the president of DICE. And we’ve got your back no matter what!”

Despite their reassurance, Saihara still seemed burdened by this realization.

“But… what do I do now? What do I do about these… feelings?”

“I could kill him. That would solve the problem,” Maki suggested. Ouma wanted to laugh out loud, only because he would’ve said the same thing. Probably.

“No, Maki Roll. No killing.”

“Well what else do you suggest? This is going to end badly no matter what.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Enough,” Saihara put his foot down. “I’ll deal with this on my own. It’s my problem and I can’t have it getting in the way of our operations. I’ll figure out what to do about Ouma, but I’ll need you all to trust me.”

“Of course I trust you! I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you, boss!” boomed Kaito.

“We’re with you, boss.” Kaede chimed in.

The dark-haired woman simply nodded in agreement. Saihara smiled in relief.

“You’re the best team I could ask for. Thank you.”

Ouma had heard enough. He turned around and snuck back to his room, taking care not to make any noise. It would be against his best interests to be discovered now.

Unfortunately, someone did. He sensed a presence behind him in the hallway and turned to see the brunette staring at him with contempt. He flashed her a goofy smile and stuck out his right hand.

“Hi there! You must be Maki. Pleasure!”

Harukawa looked at his outstretched hand in disgust, then returned the gesture with a glare.

“How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“Hmmm? What conversation?”

“Don’t play dumb. You might have the boss fooled, but I see right through you.”

“Easy, sweetcheeks. I’m on your side! No need to be so hostile.”

She advanced on him, getting closer until he was backed up against the wall with no means of escape. He didn’t move a muscle, determined not to let her get the best him. He kept his arrogant smirk, making sure his eyes never left hers. His heart threw itself against his chest and beat so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

“The only reason you’re not dead right now is because the boss won’t let me kill you. I want you to know that.”

“Lucky me. Neeheehee…”

As soon as he let out his signature laugh, he felt something sharp and cool pressing itself into his throat. Maki held the blade against his skin with enough pressure to threaten without breaking through. She glowered at him like he was vermin. Her eyes were intense and focused, rivaling Ouma’s own gaze. It would’ve been a lie to say he wasn’t frightened, but he didn’t dare show it.

“Listen up, pipsqueak,” she growled. “I don’t like you. I don’t like your face, and I don’t like your kind. If you do anything to compromise the safety of DICE, if you threaten our success, if you hurt the boss in _any_ way… you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

His fingernails scratched against the wall as his body tensed, yet he kept smiling as if nothing was wrong. 

“I hear you loud and clear, scary lady. Now can you let me go? Your breath is giving me vertigo.”

He could tell she was still unsatisfied and even more pissed off after he made that backhanded comment, but she backed off anyway. She sneered at him one last time before walking away, leaving him to process things alone. He put a hand to his throat and rubbed the spot where the knife had been. When he looked down, there was a light red stain on the tips of his fingers. He grinned, excited for his newest challenge.

“So scary…”

  
  


~~~~~~

  
  


He had been up and about for a while, shuffling through Saihara’s closet without his knowledge, when the thief finally realized the detective wasn’t laying in his futon any longer. He nearly shrieked when he found Ouma modeling one of his jackets in the bedroom, walking and talking as if he hadn’t almost been shot to death a couple days ago.

“Ouma!! You’re up!”

The detective swirled around in a circle before striking a pose.

“What do you think, Shumai? I think I look pretty spiffy in your clothes!”

He had a point; the style was pretty fitting for Ouma. However, the sleeves were much too long for his short arms and the hem fell to his knees. It practically swallowed him whole. Saihara chuckled at the sight. He took a seat on the couch next to the closet and leaned his head against the wall. He seemed relieved to see Ouma acting like his regular self again.

“I can get you a smaller size if you like it that much.”

“Nah. I like this one. It smells just like my beloved Saihara-chan.”

Ouma bounced over to Saihara, who let out a surprised “Oof!” when he felt the plum-haired man collapse into his lap. The smaller man stared up at him with wide, lavender eyes, his head resting comfortably on his thighs. It was unexpected, but somehow it felt natural. As if that was where he was meant to be. He wasn’t sure where to put his hands, so he awkwardly began to examine the red stained medical tape wrapped around his upper left arm. He traced it with the lightest touch possible, making sure not to poke too hard.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not really. Only if I move it too much.”

“That’s good. I’m so glad.”

Ouma hummed a little bit while he messed with some of the jacket’s buttons. Saihara was at a loss for what to say or do next. He worried about his hand placement again and wasn’t sure how to bring up another topic. Finally, he settled on asking an important question that had been on his mind.

“Ouma. We need to talk about our next steps.”

“Who’s Ouma?”

“...Ouma-chan. I’m serious.”

The detective shrugged as he started to play with some strands of hair from his bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

“Who knows… the papers said I’ve gone missing and presumably dead. That means Shirogane lied about what happened. Interpol is keeping the investigation under wraps, but you’re most likely their number one suspect.”

“But if you go back, you can show that you’re still alive and prove my innocence.”

“That’s a nice thought, but you’ve conveniently forgotten that you’re a wanted man. They’ll find some way to charge you for kidnapping unless we prove Shirogane was involved.”

“Then what?”

“Like I said. Who knows. And anyway, why would I go back and work with someone who tried to kill me?”

“Well, her intention wasn’t to kill you… she was trying to catch me.”

“Whatever,” He tried being dismissive, despite Saihara’s relentless questioning. “I’ve grown bored of Interpol’s office politics. If Shirogane wants to be captain, she can have it.”

“Wait, you don’t want to be captain?”

“Why would I want that?”

“Because… you’re the ultimate detective. Isn’t that your life goal?”

Ouma didn’t respond at first, choosing instead to pick at one of his nails. He realized he couldn’t put this discussion off any longer. 

It was time that he knew.

“Shuichi… you looked into my past before, non? Do you remember reading about the first case I solved?”

“Yeah, the Yokohana murder. It was hard to read. You were only 16 when it happened, right?”

“Mhmmm. Did any of the articles mention that the victim was my mom?”

“What…?”

Saihara, who had been stroking his hair lovingly, suddenly froze in place. Ouma kept a neutral expression as he spoke, talking casually as if they were discussing the weather. He had to, or else he’d break. And he couldn’t have that happen in front of Saihara. Not now.

“Yep. And my dad was the culprit. He was a private investigator, so he tampered with the evidence thinking no one would see through it. He stupidly forgot he had trained his own son to see through shit like that.”

“Ouma… I’m so sorry…”

The dismal look in Saihara’s eyes was killing him. It was the last thing he wanted to see.

“I’m not telling you this so that you can pity me. I’m telling you because I really meant it when I said we were two peas in a pod.”

He stared at the other end of the room as memories from another lifetime replayed in his head. Admittedly, it was nice getting that off his chest. He hadn’t told anyone the full truth in almost a decade.

“Spending the rest of my life working for the same people who tried to protect my dad from serving his time… no thanks. I only joined so I could expose how corrupt law enforcement truly is.”

He looked at Saihara, hoping to deflect the attention back onto him.

“You steal for similar reasons, don’t you Shu-chan?”

“We don’t steal. We retrieve stolen items and give them back to their rightful owners.”

“So you are Robin Hood. What’s your sad backstory, then? I told you about my dark and troubled past, now it’s your turn.”

The phantom thief let out a doleful sigh before he continued. Ouma watched him closely, noticing the corners of his lips turning downwards as he spoke.

“My parents were anthropologists. They discovered strange ruins near Mikawa during their travels, so they settled there when I was a baby. They unearthed about a third of it single-handedly, before our house was raided.”

“Raided? By whom?”

“Bounty hunters. People hired by art capitalists to round up precious items so they could brag about having special exhibits in their museums. They took everything and burned the house down while my parents were still inside. The worst part was that the local police didn’t even bother investigating. They’d already been paid off.”

His words seethed with a quiet rage, one that Ouma could justify. For once, he wished he had been incorrect. He rolled onto one side so he could wrap his arms around Saihara’s waist and curl into him. He felt him put a hand on his back.

“When I look back on my childhood, I only remember anger. I kept thinking about the story of Robin Hood. My parents used to read it to me before bed. I was so impressed by how he stole back everyone’s hard earned gold that the king had taken from them. I vowed to do the same, for my parents’ sake and everyone else who was a victim of greed.”

Hearing that confirmed what Ouma had suspected all along, but he kept that to himself. Saying it aloud wouldn’t help anything.

“And your idea was so moving you were able to recruit 10,000 other members.”

“Yeah, it kind of snowballed after I met Kaede, Kaito, and Maki. The four of us are the original members. When we started getting noticed for our heists, others sought us out and volunteered to join. Now we’ve got special forces all over the world.”

He perked up when he mentioned his crew. Ouma watched as a smile creep across his face when he started talking about them.

“You know, I had a lovely talk with Maki the other day. She showed me one of her cool, shiny weapons and said she’d kill me if I stepped out of line.”

“You really shouldn’t mess with her. She’s a highly trained assassin.”

“But I didn’t doooo anything!” Ouma whined, mustering the biggest puppy dog eyes. “She has it out for meeee!”

Saihara chuckled while he had his little tantrum. He went back to stroking his hair, which was so soothing Ouma closed his eyes so he could enjoy it more.

“So, if you’re not going back… does this mean you’re joining us?”

“Mmmm… who said I wasn’t going back...”

“You could stay here! Um, but only if you wanted to…”

The thought was sweet, but Ouma knew better. Maki was right about one thing: this wasn’t going to end well, no matter what path they chose. But even she couldn’t blame him for wanting to enjoy it a little longer.

“Neeheehee… will Saihara-chan be utterly heartbroken if I leave?”

“Well…”

Ouma suddenly sat up, eliciting a laugh from Saihara when he saw his hair sticking out in all directions like octopus tentacles. Even so, he put on his most serious face and pointed a finger at the thief as if to scold him.

“I still have a job to do, you know! I gotta get back there and expose the rest of those bad apples. I can’t just run away from my goals because some pretty boy wants me to shack up with him.”

“It’s not like that!!”

Ouma tapped a finger on his chin, trying to appear philosophical. 

“Buuuuut... I could use a hand exposing Shirogane.”

“Do you want my help?”

“I have a little something in mind, and I know it’d go a lot smoother with a team of phantom thieves behind me.”

Saihara pondered his suggestion for a moment. Ouma could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“I could probably get Kaito and Kaede to help, but Maki will need a bit more convincing…”

“Leave her to me, Mr. Thief. I can be _very_ persuasive.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Have some faith in me, Shu-chan. I made it this far, didn’t I?”

“Alright. But under one condition.”

Ouma blinked, his curiosity piqued.

“Oho. Do tell.”

“I want the honest truth,” Saihara said in a serious tone, making sure he didn’t break eye contact. Ouma made sure to keep his face as devoid of emotion as possible.

“Okaaaay… about what, exactly?”

“How do you really feel about me? No jokes. No games.”

Admittedly, it threw him off. His mind scrambled to come up with an appropriate response, but all he managed to do was deflect even knowing it wouldn’t do any good. He hoped he could push it off for another time, like he usually did when Saihara confronted him, but unfortunately the supreme leader was more relentless than usual.

“What a stupid question… out of all the things to ask, that’s what you want to know?! This is why you’re always two steps behind me, dummy.”

Ouma could hear the tremor coming across in his voice and wanted to kick himself for it. Saihara heard, too, which only made his arrogance increase. Now he was the one smirking.

“Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Why do you care so much, anyway?”

“That’s not an answer.”

He could feel himself getting more and more flustered the more he was pressed. Damn that Saihara! It would be easier to stand his ground if he wasn’t looking at him with those gorgeous eyes, and those long eyelashes, and those rosy lips he wished he could taste...

“Alright fine. You really wanna know? Here’s the honest to god truth. I hate your guts! And I hate your stupid, ugly face! I can’t stand the sight of you! Ha haha!”

He thought that would do the trick, but Saihara was no dummy. He teased him in an unwanted turn of events, looking quite smug as he made Ouma squirm in place.

“You really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“Maybe I’m lying. Maybe I’m telling the truth. I guess you’ll never know. Too bad.”

“I know you’re lying. I’ve been watching you since we first met all those years ago, so I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

Saihara put one finger under his chin and lifted it up so he could get a good look. The detective’s breath hitched at the gesture. He felt heat crawling up his neck, his cheeks, then over his ears. His head was ablaze with embarrassment, and what made it worse was having to look him in the eye knowing he could see him fall to pieces. 

“First, your face goes blank. Then you pause for a second. Probably thinking about what to say next. You come up with some ridiculous comment or joke. Then you say something really outrageous or cruel. And last, you laugh it off.”

Well played, Mr. Thief, he said silently to himself.

“Someone thinks he’s a detective now…”

Saihara surprised him further by taking his hand, intertwining his thin fingers between his own. It was warm and felt like silk, the softest skin he’d ever touched. 

“It’s okay if you do. Because... I think like you, too.”

Ouma wanted to combust. Part of him was ecstatic; the word he’d been dreaming of hearing for years had finally been spoken. Another part knew it was all in vain and longed to shut it out. That way, it’d be less painful when he thought about it when everything was said and done. 

He pulled his hand away, crossing his arms in a false display of disgust.

“...Ha! So you’ve got some jokes of your own. Very funny, Mr. Thief. I’m in stitches.”

“Keep avoiding the question and I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Ouma knew what he was hinting at, which made him panic even further knowing how vulnerable he was in his current position. Saihara’s hands reached out towards him, and in that moment he decided it was better to surrender now and cut his losses before he made things worse for himself.

“Hey, wait! No no no-! Okay, okay fine! So… so what if I did? What would you do then, huh?”

Saihara’s face was brick red. He inched closer and closer, leaning in further until Ouma could feel his breath. Goosebumps prickled the skin on his back, making him shiver as if cubes of ice were rolling down his spine.

“Then, I’ll do this.”

His movement was smooth and gradual. Ouma closed his eyes, just for a second, and fell breathless when he felt a pair of lips against his own. They were soft and timid, fluttering against him like the wings of a butterfly, pulling away just a little before coming back to kiss him more deeply. He instinctively cupped the back of Saihara’s neck, running his fingers through the jet black fields of his hair, and prayed that time would cease if only for a while longer.

Eventually, the two broke away from their embrace. Words caught in his throat until he finally choked something out just to cut through the awkward silence.

“...Stupid…”

The thief brushed his thumb across his cheek. He was still blushing quite deeply, but every part of his face was full of light.

“Did you like it?”

Ouma refused to speak and buried his face in Saihara’s chest. He couldn’t face him after that. It was too much. 

He was happy, though. Happy that he had the chance to know this feeling, no matter how fleeting it was. He knew it would become the worst lie he ever told himself, but right now he was alright with pretending.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Saihara say “I did, too.”


	5. Final farewells/The last job.

“Surpriiiiiiise! Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me!”

Interpol’s headquarters had already descended into mayhem when their top detective went missing, but things got even more chaotic when he burst through the precinct’s doors unannounced eight days later. He donned a haughty grin as his colleagues stared in awe, as if a long lost spirit was walking among them. Kirigiri was as unbothered as ever; she sat with one leg crossed over the other without looking up from the files she had in hand. Shirogane, however, looked as if she was going to be sick at any second. Her knees wobbled as she stood beside Kirigiri, the rest of her body following suit the closer Ouma got.

Saihara kept watch outside from the top of a nearby tree as the whole scene unfolded. He adjusted the mic in his ear until he could hear both Ouma and the others clearly. A chorus of surprised voices exclaimed in a chaotic uproar.

“Ouma-san?!”

“Wait, you’re alive?”

“What happened? Where’s the Phantom Thief? Did he kidnap you?”

The captain finally lifted her gaze, disturbed by all the commotion. She uncrossed her legs, stood up, and slammed the palms of her hands on the desk. At that, the chatter ceased.

“Ouma,” she bellowed. “Where the hell have you been?”

The detective put one hand on his hip and pointed the other at his superior.

“Is that any way to greet your long lost intern, Kiri-chan?” He taunted. “I didn’t exactly expect a warm welcome home, but this is cold even for you.”

“Enough. I’ve had it with your childish antics. You disappear for days and walk back in here like you own the place. Do you know how much overtime the force put in to track you down? It’s time you showed some respect.”

Ouma put both hands behind his head and bounced on his heels, giggling gleefully like a kid. As if this was all a game to him. Saihara wondered how much longer he would continue to amaze him with sheer absurdity.

“Neeheehee… sorry, I forgot how much you hate fun and jokes. I'll remember that next time I come back from an extended vacation.”

Kirigiri just glared back, so he directed his attention to Shirogane who was trying unsuccessfully to sneak away.

“Top of the mornin’, Moogs! How’ve you been holding up since you almost killed me?”

“What is the meaning of this?” The captain said with a scowl.

“Oh, my bad. I forgot to mention that Moogs here shot her fellow officer! That would’ve been the end for me if the Phantom Thief hadn’t come to my rescue.”

Hearing that seemed to confused the lavender-haired woman. She turned to her assistant, who was inching towards the back door. She wasn't doing herself any favors, looking more and more suspicious as sweat formed on her brow and raced down her temples.

“Shirogane. Is this true?”

The poor girl shook her head vigorously, almost causing her glasses to fall off.

“I… no… No! He’s lying!”

“Is that so?" Ouma knowingly asked. "Have you forgotten that ballistic fingerprints exist?”

“Wh… what?!”

Ouma reached into the front pocket of his striped jacket and pulled out a small ziplock bag. Inside, there was a tiny bullet crushed halfway and stained with dried blood. It was affectionately labeled "Moogie's failed dreams" in big bubble letters.

“This little fellow’s all the proof I need. Send it in for analysis and you’ll see it matches the gun registered to Tsumugi-chan over there. I’ll gladly provide my DNA to show that’s my blood, as well.”

Voices chattered, discussing the shocking truth Ouma had just revealed.

“Shirogane shot him?”

"We're not supposed to use deadly force in this country..."

“Why would she shoot him?”

“Why, you ask? The answer is obvious. She’s jealous of my talents and was afraid I’d beat her out for the captain’s position. She tried to kill the Phantom Thief after I captured him and take credit for herself. Pretty shady, if you ask me. I wonder what the papers will think when they find out their fellow detectives are turning on one another?”

Tsumugi, who had stayed relatively quiet throughout the conversation, suddenly cried out in a desperate panic.

“Noooooo! This is all a big misunderstanding! I wouldn’t, I would never, I-!”

“That’s enough.”

Kirigiri demanded silence. She walked over to Ouma and faced him directly, focusing her intense gaze on Ouma's playful expression.

“These are serious accusations you’re making. I don’t want this getting out to the media until we’ve done a thorough investigation. I will look into this matter personally to determine our next actions.”

“Not so fast, Mrs. Boss Lady. I think the people have a right to know. The police are supposed to protect them, non? Plus I’m still _so_ traumatized and I have this in _satiable_ need to share my experience with the world.”

The captain sighed, knowing all too well what was to come next.

“Fine. What is it that you want.”

“A full pardon for the Phantom Thief!" Ouma exclaimed happily. "Aaand an all expense paid vacation to Fiji."

Kirigiri shook her head.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“In that case, I quit!”

“What?!”

“That’s right, I’m done working for a bunch of violent thugs! I’ll take my talents elsewhere. In fact, I think I'll start my own private detective agency. Your squad is full of crooked cops with no sense of loyalty. And I’m done answering to a captain who sweeps this kind of behavior under the rug. Find another lapdog you can train.”

Saihara was amazed to see emotion on the captain's face. Although it was only for a split second, she looked astonished upon hearing Ouma's argument. However, the surprise soon faded and her typical cool demeanor returned. Her voice was velvety and smooth, with no hint of agitation whatsoever. 

“Alright. If that’s your decision, I won’t try to convince you otherwise. But I beg of you, hold off on the media at least until we have conclusive evidence."

“How about we make a compromise? Stop pursuing the Phantom Thief until your investigation of Moogs and the department is complete.”

She paused for a moment, then nodded her head after a few seconds of consideration.

“Very well. As long as he doesn't commit any more felonies, we won't pursue him."

The rest of the office workers continued to chatter, but that came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a metallic clink. All eyes in the room turned to see Tsumugi shakily holding her gun, pointing it towards the ultimate detective. Saihara felt a wave of deja vu wash over him.

"Ouma," he whispered into the mic. "Should we move in?"

"Not yet," a familiar voice whispered back. He didn't like seeing him face to face with a deadly weapon again, but he trusted Ouma's judgement. So in the tree he remained.

"No!!" the assistant cried. "I don't care what you say, I will catch the Phantom Thief! I've worked too hard to give up now and I'm not gonna let some rookie hotshot take that away from me!"

Before the captain or anyone else could pull their own weapons, a shot rang out along with the sound of broken glass. The next events happened in the blink of an eye. 

Tsumugi let out a yelp as she suddenly dropped the gun, holding her uninjured wrist in fear it had been hit. Everyone else dropped to the floor, including the captain. Excluding Ouma. Before anyone comprehended what was going on, Saihara was standing in the midst of the chaos wearing his signature white coat, checkered handkerchief, and a mask that resembled a demon. He held a knotted rope in one hand and Ouma's waist in the other. The sound of a helicopter hovering outside of the window made it difficult to hear anything else, except for Ouma's farewell as he swung backwards through the broken window, in the arms of his beloved thief.

“Sayonara! See ya never!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they reached a DICE safe point in the next town over, Momota landed the helicopter on its designated strip. Saihara, still holding onto both the rope and Ouma's waist, gently placed the shorter man down in a patch of soft grass before jumping off himself. The two fell down next to each other and burst into laughter.

“You’re one crazy bastard,” Saihara said through wheezy giggles. “I can’t believe you actually did that.”

" _We_ did it, you dummy," Ouma corrected with a huge grin. "Maki-chan really came through. She's pretty scary with a gun."

"It's like you knew the perfect way to use everyone's skills. Akamatsu's piloting, Momota's engineering designs. You're really amazing."

“I knooooow! Makes you think I should be the evil supreme leader instead of you, hm?”

They had a good laugh about that, but when the giggles died down the serious conversation began.

“So… are you really leaving the force?” Saihara asked.

“Yeah, I really am. I like the idea of running my own business. Honestly, I should’ve done that in the first place. What was I thinking, working with cops?”

Saihara smiled sadly, as if lost in reflection.

“I guess this means you won’t be chasing after me anymore.”

Ouma picked at one of his fingernails, seemingly uninterested in the topic.

“Yup. Guess not.”

They sat there for a while, neither of them saying much of anything, until Ouma suddenly stood up and stretched.

“Welp, enjoy your new life of peace! I’m sure some eager newbie will be following you soon enough.”

He spotted a taxi stationed about a block away from the landing strip and started making his way towards it, but stopped when Saihara called out to him.

“Wait!”

The detective looked over his shoulder, and his heart nearly broke when he saw his beloved's downcast expression.

Don't, he thought solemnly. You're only going to make this more difficult.

“...I want you to stay with me.”

Ouma let out a scoff, kicking Saihara while he was already down. He had no choice. He made an agreement, and he wasn't the type of person to go back on his word. No matter if others saw him as dishonest, he had to stay true to himself. Even if that meant being the bad guy.

“Oh, Shu-shu… what did you think this was? You weren't under the impression that we were going to be together, were you?”

The thief physically recoiled at his words. Ouma knew he was twisting the knife in deeper, but it was the only way. 

“But… you…”

“I told you,” he said blankly, keeping his face as neutral as possible. “I’m a liar. I'm not in love with you. There's nothing between us. I was just doing my job.”

“No. You weren’t lying," Saihara refused to believe him, tears emerging from the corners of his eyes. Ouma wanted to cry too, but he couldn't. Not yet.

“But I was lying! I only said all that stuff and acted all cutesy so you’d help me get revenge on the captain. Now that that’s done, I don’t need you anymore! You're worthless to me! Aha ha ha!”

He knew that little fake laugh at the end would tell Saihara all he needed to know, but even then nothing could really be done. He made his choice, and now they both had to live with it.

“Why are you doing this?” Saihara argued pointlessly. 

“You always ask me why I do things. Did you ever think maybe I don’t have a reason? Not everyone has an ulterior motive, Mister Thief."

He felt something soft and warm wrap around his hand, but he didn't dare look down to see. He kept a stern gaze forward, harnessing all his willpower to keep himself from looking back one last time to see the man he had fallen for.

“Please. Don’t go.”

The detective gave him one last squeeze, trying to etch the feeling of their hands intertwined in his mind forever, then slowly let go. He trudged towards the taxi down the street, not giving Saihara so much as a glance back.

The thief fell to his knees as he watched him get inside the car and drive away. He felt the first tears of many fall down his cheeks, but when he heard his team approaching from behind he quickly wiped them way.

“Hey, boss! That was awesome!" Momota shouted as he patted him on the back. "That Ouma guy is a pain in the ass, but he's a damn genius!

"...Wait, where is he?” Akamatsu asked after looking around. Her eyes fell on Harukawa, who stood at a distance with a twisted grimace.

“He’s gone," their boss stated blankly.

“Wait, he just left? Why?!”

“I don’t know what I did wrong. I don't understand..."

He sat there for awhile, no one knowing what to say, until Harukawa finally approached him. She knelt down before him and looked directly in his eyes.

“Boss… there’s something I need to tell you."

  
  


**~~~~Two days ago~~~~**

  
  


Harukawa’s frown stayed on her face long after Ouma finished explaining his plan. She sat silently with arms crossed in front of her chest as she mulled over her decision.

“Soooo… what do you think?” He looked at her expectantly, eyes wide with excitement. 

“I hate the idea of helping you,” she spat. “But… if it gets the boss off the hook, I’ll do it.”

“Yaaaaay! You’re the best, Maki-chan!!” the shorter man reached out towards her with both arms, but she stepped away in disgust.

“Don’t push your luck. It’s Harukawa to you. And I’ll do it under one condition.”

Ouma cocked his head to the side and poked his cheek in an attempt to look as cute as possible.

“Ooooh! A compromise! Alright, lay it on me!”

“After this is all over, I want you to leave the boss alone. For good.”

“Wha…”

He stood there dumbfounded for a little too long. Impatient, Harukawa stood up and moved towards the door.

“If you can’t, then the deal’s off. Find another sniper.”

“... Wait.”

She was halfway out the door, but paused when she heard Ouma speak again.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But... can I at least say goodbye to him?”

She didn’t bother turning around, barking one last command before walking out and slamming the door behind her.

“Fine, but you better make it quick."

  
  
  


**~~~~~~~Present Day~~~~~~~~**

  
  


He wasn’t angry at her. That wasn’t the right word to use. After knowing Harukawa for almost a decade, he had come to understand her motivations along with her loyalty to DICE and himself altogether. Hearing her apologize for once actually took him aback. He never thought he'd live long enough to see her admit that she had done something wrong. Even Momota was shocked when he heard her confession. He couldn’t hold a grudge, no matter how heartbroken he was about the current state of things.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Saihara lost his incentive for heists. Nothing seemed to matter knowing Ouma wasn’t going to chase him any longer. He spent weeks tracking the detective after they went their separate ways, cheering him on from the shadows as he watched him get closer to his fulfilling his dream. He followed him back home to Tokyo, where the plum-haired man had found a small office to rent in Shinjuku. People practically lined up at the doors on the day of his grand opening, badgering him for interviews and begging him to take on their personal cases. He stopped visiting his office in secret after that; there wasn't much point in going, anyway.

He was happy for him. Really.

At least, he was trying to be.

A couple months passed, and the rest of the DICE team grew restless as the seasons changed one after the other. When the three of them grew bored of sitting around headquarters and watching their boss mope around, they decided it was time to intervene.

“I’ve never seen him so down before,” Akamatsu said off-handedly one day. She sat on the living room couch next to Harukawa, who was brooding in silence.

“Yeah. This is worse than when Amami dumped him.” Momota commented. He saw the corners of his girlfriend’s mouth turn down further after he spoke. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, giving her a small peck on the cheek to try and soothe her worries.

“Hey. Stop beating yourself up. The boss knows you were looking out for him.”

Despite his reassurance, she still said nothing. Akamatsu could practically feel the guilt radiating from her direction.

“I have an idea.”

“Yeah? Whatcha thinkin'?"

“Let’s bring the boss on one last job.”

"What job?" Harukawa piped up, her attention piqued. Akamatsu grinned at her with a twinkle in her eye.

She glanced at Saihara as he hunched over his desk in the study, and once she was sure he wasn’t listening she leaned in and whispered her plan to her colleagues. Momota’s eyes lit up while he let out an excited cry, which was quickly hushed by the two women at his side. Harukawa clung to every word, nodding every once in a while in agreement. By the time Akamatsu finished speaking, the assassin was smiling with relief.

“Alright. I’m in,” She said.

“Operation Wingman is a go!!” Momota boomed loudly, earning himself a smack on the chest from his girlfriend and a hasty “shhhh!” from Akamatsu.

The three of them stood up and walked towards the study. Momota pounded his large fist on the door to get their leader’s attention. He turned to them with tired, baggy eyes dried out after the latest crying spell.

“Hey, guys. What's up?" he asked weakly.

“If you’re up for it, boss," Harukawa began with a shaky, uncertain voice. "There’s one more heist we think you should pull…”

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


When Ouma received the strangely patterned letter in the mail, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Ever since he opened his independent detective agency, he’d been overly cautious about accepting packages and envelopes that made their way to his doors. He knew he had made more than a few enemies after leaving Interpol, and without a force of trained professionals backing him up he understood he was in danger whenever he was alone. Times like these made him wish he had a secret organization of 10,000 members to support him.

He couldn't waste time on the what ifs, though. The what ifs were more painful than the ripped muscle in his shoulder that still left a dull ache whenever he moved his arm too much. That was nothing compared to the pain of losing him.

But there was something weird about this letter. It had a bizarre, intimate energy he couldn’t explain despite his wide range of vocabulary. It sat on his desk for almost a day before he worked up the nerve to open it. He took great care tearing it apart, making sure not to ruin any of the contents inside.

As soon as he pulled out the piece of paper and saw the familiar letterhead and chickenscratch drawing at the top of the page, his heart soared into the sky and burst open like fireworks. He read the calling card again, and again, and again, and then another seven times before he finally put it back down and collapsed on his swivel chair in a state of bliss. 

  
  
  
  


_At midnight, I will come to steal the heart of Ouma Kokichi,_

_the ultimate detective who has mine under arrest._

_-The Phantom Thief (Shumai)_

  
  
  


Ouma wore the biggest, goofiest, silliest grin on his face. It stayed put long after he finished reading.

“You cornball,” he said aloud to no one, still giggling from the ridiculousness of it all.

“You already have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, and thank you for making it this far! I appreciate you all sticking with this. To be quite honest, I almost didn't want to post the last chapter even though it's been finished for a few days. I started getting consumed by self doubt and was worried I wouldn't finish this as strongly as I started, that everyone would hate it and be disappointed, the typical writer anxiety I suffer from daily lol. I still feel like maybe I wasn't good enough to write this particular story and might even go back to edit once I let it sit for a while, but for now I'm just gonna let it be! I still can't believe I wrote almost 20k words in under a week. For me that's a new record lolol. 
> 
> Anyway, I hoped you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it! Saiouma forever xoxo


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